


Waltzing's for Dreamers

by gamerfic



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Halamshiral, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamerfic/pseuds/gamerfic
Summary: Everybody thinks they know what King Alistair of Ferelden really wants out of life. All but two of them are wrong.





	Waltzing's for Dreamers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iselmyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iselmyr/gifts).



As King Alistair danced with his queen in the grand ballroom in the Winter Palace of Halamshiral, he knew he looked every inch the beloved monarch that the people of Ferelden expected him to be. Resplendent in finely tailored and richly embroidered clothes, he led his wife through each precise movement of the dance as nobles of two kingdoms looked on in envy and awe. Anora was a vision of regal beauty in her light blue gown, an image fit for a royal portrait. The joyful smile shining from her lovely face was, he knew, entirely genuine. He could only hope his own grin looked half as natural. In reality, his feet ached, his eyes were gritty with exhaustion, and his head felt fuzzy and overstuffed. It had been a long day of formal conversations and careful diplomacy, and he could hardly wait to get back to the guest suite and collapse into bed.

He spun Anora out across the parquet floor and pulled her back to him, encircling her waist with his hands. Fortunately, the background rumble of conversation together with the band's exuberant volume concealed his counting out each beat under his breath. As strong, swift, and nimble as he had been as a Grey Warden, his warrior's training hadn't made him any good at dancing. Back in Denerim, he had practiced for hours with a succession of increasingly stern instructors until he could at least bluff his way through the most popular and common dances without tripping over his own two feet. He would never be as sure-footed or as graceful as Anora, who had learned all the steps in childhood and could practically complete them in her sleep. So now his secret was this: No matter what it looked like to others, whenever the music was playing, he was always letting her take the lead.

The song reached its spirited conclusion, and Alistair dramatically dipped Anora as the final chord rang out. Much to his relief, he didn't drop her the way he had the first few times they'd rehearsed the maneuver. Applause rang out from the onlookers surrounding the dance floor, although not so loudly as it had a few hours earlier. Little by little, the ball was ending as the guests retired to their rooms or their waiting carriages. Alistair was grateful for it.

The musicians were tuning up for another song. He turned to Anora and asked, "Shall we sit this one out?"

She nodded in agreement, gave him her hand, and let him lead her off the dance floor. "Honestly, if you don't mind, I'd like to turn in for the night."

"Oh, what a relief! I mean...yes, I think that would be wise."

"So eager, my king." Anora chuckled, then lowered her voice. "And to think I haven't even told you about the surprise I've planned for later."

"I hope it's cheese," Alistair said without thinking, and Anora had to cover her mouth with one hand lest she burst out in extremely inelegant peals of laughter.

"I'll bid our hostess farewell and then we can be on our way," said Anora. She strode briskly toward the other side of the room and the small alcove where Empress Celene received guests. Warmth filled Alistair's chest as he watched her go. This small act of sparing him from the formal small talk she knew he hated was her way of showing how much she cared for him - and he loved her all the more for it.

"May I have this dance?" said a familiar voice from behind him.

Startled, Alistair whirled around to face Warden-Commander Cousland. She wore the grey dress uniform of the Wardens and a mischievous half-smile. "Elissa!" he stammered. "I mean, Warden-Commander! I didn't expect to see you here."

Elissa shrugged. "I wasn't exactly invited. But I happened to be in Halamshiral on Grey Warden business, and when I heard about your visit I couldn't pass up the chance to see you and Anora." She held out her hand to him. "Well? What will it be?"

Alistair's mouth went dry. Desperate for advice, he cast his gaze toward Anora - but she had vanished into the press of ladies-in-waiting and various hangers-on surrounding Empress Celene. She couldn't possibly notice his plight or tell him what to do. "People will talk," he said.

"They already do."

Elissa's hand was still extended, steady and unwavering like everything else about her. The bandleader had returned to their podium at the front of the stage, one hand on the neck of their viol and the other setting the next song's tempo. Alistair hesitated for a moment longer, but in the end he did as he had always done. He took hold of her and said, "Very well, then. Lead the way."

The band began to play, launching into an up-tempo tune that had enjoyed decades of popularity in both Ferelden and Orlais, as Elissa practically dragged Alistair out onto the floor. Like every other song at the ball, it had its own steps to be memorized and rehearsed. Elissa, like Anora, had grown up with this dance, a privilege Alistair had never enjoyed. But unlike Anora, Elissa felt no need to reproduce what she had been taught. She skipped and spun through a choreography of her own devising, inspired by the old way but not bound to them. He did his best to follow her as he basked in the light of her broad, unguarded grin.

During the song's final measures Alistair took Elissa by the hand and twirled her enthusiastically, just as he had done with Anora. By the time the music ended, Elissa had somehow wrapped herself in his arms with her body closer to his than was entirely appropriate for the occasion. Flustered, he disentangled himself and bent down into a deep, respectful bow. "It's been an honor to dance with you, Warden-Commander."

"The honor was all mine." Elissa dipped into a low curtsy that not coincidentally brought her face down to his level. "Meet me in the library in ten minutes," she whispered. Then she straightened up and strode across the ballroom. She paused just long enough to glance over her shoulder with a knowing smirk before losing herself in the crowd.

Alistair swallowed hard. Reflexively, he looked again for Anora near Empress Celene's alcove. The crush of courtiers around the empress had lessened, but Anora was nowhere in sight. He scanned the room as he began to leave the dance floor, but still didn't spot her. _Perhaps she's waiting for me in the foyer,_ he thought, and quickened his pace.

As he reached the perimeter of the ballroom, someone politely cleared their throat inches from his ear and an Orlesian-accented voice said, "Your Majesty, if I may be so bold...would you make an old woman's day and share the next dance with me?"

The silver-haired woman who had spoken wore a black velvet gown with a plunging neckline showing off her ample bosom. Pearls and ornate golden filigree decorated her red lacquered mask. Jewel-encrusted bracelets jangled on her wrist as she extended her bony hand. Alistair had no idea who she was. "Forgive me, my lady," he said, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt. "I was lost in thought." He took her proffered hand and brushed the knuckles with his lips. As he did he noticed a signet ring marked with a reclining gold lion on her index finger. The long, dull hours he'd spent learning Orlesian heraldry suddenly came rushing back to him. "Oh! I mean, forgive me, Your Grace! Duchess Charlotte! Dowager Duchess of Jader. What a pleasure to see you here!"

"The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty," said the Dowager Duchess with a shallow curtsy. "I hope you will pardon my interruption. I see you are in a hurry. If you cannot stay, I understand. Being king of Ferelden would keep anyone busy."

Even Alistair, who still wasn't especially skilled at deciphering the many hidden meanings of the Great Game, grasped the Dowager Duchess's unspoken implications. He thought, _She's powerful, but not powerful enough to boss a king around. So she's giving me an excuse to politely decline and save face. But for some reason she_ really _wants to dance with me, so if I don't she's probably going to come up with some theory about why I turned her down and spread it all around the palace._ At the same time, he heard Anora's voice in his head, reminding him that Duchess Charlotte was an important player in the diplomatic relations between Ferelden and Orlais, and that it would be best to treat her with the utmost respect. So he gave the Duchess his arm and said, "For you, Your Grace, I have all the time in the world. Shall we dance?"

The band's next song was a lazy waltz full of elaborate, romantic flourishes. The population of the once-crowded dance floor became sparser by the minute. The few remaining couples didn't have the energy for sprightly jigs, and seemed content to simply embrace each other and slowly sway. Alistair was glad to be able to get by with dancing a box step too simple for even him to mess up. He remembered Anora's instructions about the importance of making pleasant conversation with potential allies and said, "I hope you've enjoyed the ball, Your Grace."

"Oh, it was a dreadful bore until I got the chance to dance with you, Your Majesty."

"You're too kind, Your Grace."

"How lovely of you to say so." The Dowager Duchess's tone became conspiratorial. "Now, I _know_ you've been enjoying yourself quite a lot, Your Majesty. Haven't you?"

"Yeeeeeees?" said Alistair, unsure of why he suddenly felt he was walking into a trap.

"I saw you dancing with Warden-Commander Cousland."

"Indeed I was. We've been, uh, colleagues for a long time, after all."

"Some say you're much more than that."

"And some say a dozen dragons will burst out of Lake Calenhad if you paint yourself blue and dance naked on its western shore under the new moon." By the confused tilt of the Dowager Duchess's head he could tell he'd said something wrong, so he hastily added, "Your Grace."

"I don't know anything about Lake Calenhad," said the Duchess. "But I know two people in love when I see them."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

The Dowager Duchess's eyes sparkled behind her mask. "Do you not think we have all noticed? Everyone in Orlais knows the two of you were inseparable during the Blight."

"The Blight has been over for years now."

"And thank the Maker for it. But Your Majesty, you must know, I am not the only one who thinks it terribly sad that you and the Warden-Commander can't be together. Why, in Orlais, the bards have written lyrics about the tragedy for the very song we are waltzing to."

Alistair stumbled momentarily, but found his feet again. "I don't know what you mean," he said stiffly. "I love Queen Anora very much."

"Of course you do," replied the Dowager Duchess with a wink. "But remember, in Orlais, we are brought up in the Grand Game. We are not Fereldan peasants, who cannot tell fairy stories from reality. We know that life is not so simple as the legends make it seem - and that true love stories can be greater and richer than any tale-spinner could dream."

"I agree, Your Grace."

"Of course you do. And should you ever choose to admit as much to yourself, know that Orlais will understand." Mercifully, the music was ending. The Dowager Duchess glided gracefully away from him and gave another, deeper curtsy, fanning her skirts out dramatically. "It has been my greatest pleasure to dance with you, Your Majesty."

"The pleasure was all mine, Your Grace."

As soon as the Duchess departed, no doubt to gossip about him with the other elderly Orlesian ladies who had been watching him as avidly as birds of prey, Alistair also left, as hastily as he could. Anora was nowhere to be seen in the foyer. Had she retired to their bedroom without him, perhaps? As for Elissa's invitation to meet in the library, thanks to the Duchess well more than ten minutes had passed. He leaned against a pillar to ponder his options and decided to look for Elissa first. She'd told him where to find her, after all, and perhaps she could help him track down Anora afterwards.

However, locating the library proved easier said than done. A chamberlain had given Alistair and Anora a grand tour of the Winter Palace when they had arrived a few days earlier, but his mind still tended to wander during such events and he'd figured he'd never have to navigate the place alone anyway. He was reasonably certain he remembered which wing the library was in, but two guards were stationed at the staircase that would lead him there. As an anonymous Grey Warden he might have gotten past them unnoticed, but as King of Ferelden he had no chance. Instead he meandered around the grounds, peering into alcoves and studies and salons and escaping as quickly as he could from the small talk that inevitably resulted from his intrusions. He hoped he'd blunder into the right place eventually, but for the moment he was hopelessly lost.

Eventually he found himself in the palace gardens, which by now were nearly empty. He strolled amidst the footpaths and hedgerows, toward the faint sounds of conversation and a delicately strummed lute, until he reached a large courtyard. A minstrel perched on the edge of a fountain, singing and playing for a group of tired and inebriated nobles - performing, as it turned out, an arrangement of the same song he and the Dowager Duchess had just danced to. Its lyrics were just as sappy and predictable as he'd feared. _There's no accounting for taste,_ he thought, shaking his head at the intently listening Orlesians.

Alistair let his gaze drift around the courtyard until he spotted a second-story walkway lined with familiar doors. He and Anora had traversed those white marble verandas during their earlier tour of the palace, and he remembered the chamberlain pointing out the library among the many other extravagant rooms. He couldn't find an exterior staircase leading up from the courtyard - but he _did_ spot a white wooden trellis on the far wall, its top affixed to the walkway's railing. The plan he was now formulating was not especially kingly, but after his dance with the Duchess he figured he'd already been kingly enough for one day.

He glanced again at the Orlesian audience as he walked toward the trellis. They were too engrossed in the performance to notice his approach, or perhaps just too drunk to pay much attention to anything. The minstrel's eyes were closed as she emoted dramatically through the song's extremely historically inaccurate refrain. Nobody saw him grabbing of the trellis and climbing it as hurriedly as he could. The wood creaked and shuddered under his weight, but it held fast. At the top he flung one leg over the railing, then crouched behind it as he tried not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation and thus give himself away.

When he was confident he hadn't been seen, he stood up and tried the library door. The knob turned smoothly and silently in his hand, and he slipped swiftly into the room. Inside it was dim and quiet, and at first he was sure he was too late and had missed Elissa entirely. But as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw the faint glow of a lamp somewhere farther into the library, heard a faint rustle and a low breathy moan. He moved toward the light and the sound, into the next room, and grinned at what he saw there.

Anora and Elissa were sprawled out together on a plush red velvet couch, lost in a deep and passionate kiss. The voluminous skirts of Anora's beautiful blue dress were wrinkled and rucked up almost to her waist, and her fingers were steadily and dexterously unfastening each silver button on Elissa's uniform coat. "Am I interrupting something?" said Alistair teasingly.

Elissa pulled away and returned Alistair's smile, her lips swollen from kissing. "Not at all."

"We thought you'd never make it," added Anora.

"Sorry," said Alistair. "Right after Elissa left, the Dowager Duchess of Jader asked me to dance."

"That must have been quite an adventure."

"I managed it. I'm sure either one of you would have handled her better."

"Don't sell yourself short, my love," said Elissa. She stood up from the couch and moved to embrace him. Anora did the same. "You know Anora and I believe in you."

"I do," Alistair said thoughtfully. He still wasn't sure what the Dowager Duchess thought she knew about him, whether it was the truth of the situation or the fiction of the song or some other fantasy entirely. But he wondered what she would have done if he'd admitted everything to her, instead of keeping it hidden behind cautious evasions. He, Elissa, and Anora had mutually agreed to keep their unusual romantic arrangement a secret - not because it was shameful, but because it was complicated, and the last thing Ferelden seemed to need at the time was more complication. Maybe it hadn't stayed as secret as he thought it had. Maybe it was time to put aside the Grand Game's gossip and half-truths and tell everyone exactly how things really were with no white lies or equivocations. Maybe, in the end, to be open at last would be a good thing.

But all of that could wait. For at least a little while, he was done being a king, or anything other than a man in love. He kissed each of them in turn, Anora and then Elissa, and hoped the strength of his devotion would show through in all his actions. Anora smiled up at him. "Do you like your surprise, my king?"

"I love it," said Alistair. "And I love both of you."

"Wait until we show you the next part," said Elissa, reaching for the toggles on his linen shirt.

Alistair let her guide him to the couch as Anora's hands found his belt buckle. After that, he didn't think about secrets or the Grand Game or anything other than Elissa and Anora any more that night. It didn't matter what the Dowager Duchess or anyone else in Orlais thought they knew about him. For the moment, all that mattered was that he was exactly where he wanted to be.


End file.
